


Safety

by DyslexicBookwyrm72, Lillian_Williams



Series: They Had Feelings For Each Other [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel & Demon Interactions, Angst, Aziraphale Has Feelings (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has PTSD (Good Omens), Best Friends, Books, Bookstores, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crying, Drunk Aziraphale (Good Omens), Feelings, Hot Chocolate, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Libraries, M/M, Mentions of murder and torture, Pain, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 10:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicBookwyrm72/pseuds/DyslexicBookwyrm72, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Williams/pseuds/Lillian_Williams
Summary: All living things have the same basic needs:FoodWaterShelterSafetyAnd CompanionshipA collections of stories about an angel and a demon. Miracles not included. Apocalypse sold separately.An angel and a demon have a day of commiseration. It's not a good one but it ends on a high note





	Safety

**Author's Note:**

> Hello e'eryone! Just so you know this one gets a bit rough in places, so heads up if you're not feelin' that right now, or ever, maybe sit this one out.
> 
> Enjoy!  
Or not. That's an option too. I can't tell you how to live your life.
> 
> yeah If your expecting the same fluf you found in the first three strap in cuz today is not that kinda day. but it ends on a high note so its not all doom and gloom

An angel and a demon have a day. It’s not a good one, but it ends on a high note.

Crowley slithered into the bookshop to see if his friend wanted to stop by the park for the morning pop-up market and maybe get ice cream while they were there. But it appeared the universe had other plans.

"Crowley, duuuuuuuuuude..." Aziraphale drawled out with a giggle at the stunned demon.

Crowley looked around the corner into the shop to see the angel leaning back in his desk chair, his face completely red. He was Drunk. Capitalization and everything. Today was not going to be a good day. "Uh, oh."

"Have I ever told you about the importance of lit- liter- uh, uh. Books!!" Aziraphale's eyes brightened as he waved his arms about for emphasis.

"What's the year again?" Crowley started counting on his fingers then threw back his head. "Fuuuck… Should invest in a Roman calendar,” he muttered under his breath.

"'Cause, I don't know if you know this but literature is an inter- intergru- inte- It's an important part of any civilized society." The angel let his wrists go limp and flapped his hands up and down. His tone indicated that what he was saying was something that everybody should have already been aware of.

"That time again. Already." Crowley turned to go loot through the kitchenette for the supply kit he'd made for this specific situation but stopped as the sharp tone of his name was stated at an octave too high for any human to hear.

"Crooowwwwwleeeeeyyyyyyy," Aziraphale whined. "Are you lis-ah-nin-GUH? 'Cause 'S important."

"Yes, angel. Go on. Just making a hot chocolate and grabbing something." The demon said as reassuringly as he could muster. "You were saying."

"Like cocoa. Chocolate. Good stuff. 'Oxidants." Aziraphale smiled proudly. Crowley sighed and shook his head before disappearing into the kitchenette.

"Can you hear me?!?" Aziraphale leaned as far over as possible in his chair to see what the demon was up to but had to stand up when he nearly fell out of the chair. He wobbled to the couch and uncharacteristically flopped himself down upon it.

"Yes!" Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing through his teeth.

"Sooooo... like I was saying. They came to me, and they said 'Principality Aziraphale, hey man, I got this divine job for you. Just go down to Earth and rain down some fire an' brimstone. Tha's your thing: fiery rocks. B'g rocks. From space! But on fire... Do it here. Isss no big deal there- there won't be many people there and they're pagans anyways." The angel wiggled his hands out in front of his face while making high pitched raspy, throat sounds. "So who cares jusssst go down therrrree and and "cause some trouble" as you say." He said with finger quotes that involved his entire arm.

Crowley had started the kettle and began rummaging through the cupboards lazily. The angel in the next room took a deep breath and continued.

"So, I thought to myself. 'Principality Aziraphale, you can't reign down fire and brimstone this isn't whatever B.C. This is the modern era. Rome and Egypt must learn to coexist or at leas' tha's what the inefff- ineff….inefffabllllle plaaaahahahahaan dictates'." The demon had to pause ever so often in his search to focus on Aziraphale's words. He'd gotten to the stage of intoxication that meant all vowels were drawn out, and consonants could interchange without warning. When spoken, it would make even the most studied linguists scratch their heads in wonder. Luckily the demon had spent centuries becoming an expert at deciphering drunken angel rambling. "So, I thought, I can't do that. I'll just get a mortal to do it!"

Aziraphale paused when he heard a triumphant sound come from the kitchen, and Crowley came back out to set a small leather case next to the chair before curling himself up and waited for the kettle.

"So there's this guy. You know the guy. Che-ze-ray. Ungrateful bastard I introduce him to a good woman, and he goes and falls for some pagan mathematician in Egypt. I don't care how pretty she is, was… y' know wha' I mean. Calpurnia was a good woman...Anyway. So, I went, 'hey man Egypt thassss a pretty important piece o' land righ' there… Maybe… Maybe canons might help…But he was wayyyyyy before canons so...'tebuche' of course he would' t call it that 'cause's French. Buht... Where was I goin' wi' this?" Aziraphale scrunched up his nose in concentration. He tilted his head to the side as if trying to get the thought to fall back into place.

"Cesare? Rome? Ineffable plan. Space? Rocks?" Crowley tried to supply something that would get the conversation back on course while he started to take sly inventory of the kit. The demon didn't want Aziraphale to feel like he wasn't paying attention.

"ROCKS! Big rocks... b'g fiery flaming wrocks…. On fire! So, he does it, and I tell him 'hey, if you wanna like really do the trick just hit this one- this one- this one place like partick-u-lar-leey," The angel bobbed his head in time with the syllables, smiling when the word came out sounding almost right, "hard like really make sshure this placcee gets wrecked.' Grade-A top-shelf wrecccccked." Aziraphale held the note until he was upside down on the couch with his head inches off the floor.

The demon offhandedly knocked over one of the pillows, before gently kicking it over under the angel's head. Just in case. His friend had a habit of flailing when excited, and this particular discussion usually devolved into shouting and the abuse of inanimate objects. No reason for Aziraphale to injure himself in the process.

"So! I says to him, I says jussss' make sure that this place burns jus' razzzzzzzzzze it to the grouunnnd. Make sure nothing's leffff' standin'. Okay? And he says, 'Oh, will this guarantee me a victory over such and such a person' and I says 'yeah, yeah o 'course.'" Aziraphale rolled himself over and flopped onto the floor like an angel skinned rug, hitting the pillow and several other objects on the way down. He would be upset about the overturned lamp another day.

"And so he does it, and then Head Office comes to me," The angel rolled onto his back, tossing the pillow off to the side. Crowley shrugged, it'd done it's job at least, "an' they say 'well done and all, and i ask for stats and they- they- they start," The angel's mouth, jaw, and throat tensed so severely the demon could see it across the room. It had gotten to the part of the story Crowley hated hearing, but it meant they were almost to the end. "They started…" The angel sat up abruptly, curling in on himself as he relived the moment on the backs of his retinas, "they started by counting the nummmm- the num- the numb-," Angels didn't really have tear ducts but sometime they could miracle tears when they weren't thinking about it. He looked up at Crowley who gave him a slight nod of encouragement to continue. "Books...so many books...the- the entire length and breadttttttthhhhhhh of ancient knowledge gone...dashed ...naught but ash."

Aziraphale's eyes had been brimming over with tears, but then he started maniacally giggling. "That rhymed I didn't even mean to… all cause some stupid angel coo-l-dent- be bothered to read the fine print. God damn it all."

"Don't you even say that!" Crowley hissed through clenched teeth. His nostrils flared, pupils constricting and elongating in anger. Aziraphale flinched at the reaction, but didn't say anything. The moment was interrupted when the kettle dinged. The demon shot up and slinked to the kitchen. After a moment he returned, with two glasses of water and more composed than before. Sitting back down, Crowley set one glass in front of himself and slid the other down the desk to within the angel's reach. "You know you were just doing your job? The decisions you were making weren't yours."

"Like the soldiers of Hitler. Like the Americans who interned the Japanese. Like the people in North Korea who-." The angel's face began to grow more red with his rising colour.

"Oi!! Stop right there. No, angel, that's not-. Humans've got free will. We have to do what we're told." Crowley's hands clenched with frustration. He had been on the receiving end of several orders he'd tried and failed to get around.

"Now, Crowley, I know 'cause you," Aziraphale put a finger to his lips and faked a low 'shhhh' sound, "DON'T READ!" He shouted the last part with full body finger quotes. "You don't caaaaaaaaaaare about literature but- but- but some of us... Some of us do!" The angel shot to his feet. "and I, sir, care very musssh about books an' literature and allll i's trappings." He said holding his arms out like a prince in a ballet. Gesturing to the onlooking audience of books.

Crowley's brows furrowed in worry. This was going in a different direction than previous times.* By now they should have been moving onto the hot chocolate with unhealthy amounts, for mortals, of whipped cream. Fresh of course, because he'd made it for Aziraphale once back in the sixteenth century and had never been able to convert him back to the canned stuff. Not even when he was drunk.

The angel stopped suddenly, looking down at the water, he knew he should be drinking, then, without a word, started walking. Or rather, staggering like a man on a ship in a storm, he walked to a place he knew, but the demon didn't. Crowley watched with interest deciding if Aziraphale needed help before jumping up when the angel literally _fell down_ next to a chest of drawers. He shoved it out of the way with all the care and concern of a five-year-old mid-tantrum, revealing a hermetically sealed vault.

Crowley was crouched next to Aziraphale taking in the scene before him. In all his time lingering about the shop, he'd never found this particular hiding place. Crowley had thought he was aware of all the spots the angel stored his treasured belongings, but this place had been warded against every blessed thing the demon could think of, including angels. The stench of holiness filled his lungs and burned unpleasantly with each breath.

Unlocking the safe with the press of his palm, Aziraphale pulled out a bundle wrapped in velvet and lambskin from the vault. Unrequested tears streaming down his face, like a faucet someone failed to turn off.

"I tried to save as many as I could. I did… The poor humans tried to tell me not to go into the fire, but I didn't listen…" Aziraphale clutched the bundles to his chest, scurrying back toward the couch, he pressed himself against the furniture. Anguish painting his features with memories of heartbreak and physical pain. Glancing back hesitantly at the demon, the angel loosed his wings. With a drunken flourish, he twisted his left wing forward to reveal a singed edge on his tertiary feathers.

Crowley's whole body froze, he took off his sunglasses and wrapped his arms around himself, willing his wings further into the void. His memories took control for a brief few moments. The demon remembered the rush, the burning smell of blackening feathers. Pain and sulphur. The hurt that went on for more time than had been conceivable at the time between the beginning and his escape to Earth. Panic nearly overcame him, but his friend needed him more.

"You never told me this part." Crowley moved toward Aziraphale and sidled close enough that he could see the scar but not close enough to touch.

"That'sssssss 'cause I hide it... Can't have the demon knowing." The angel spit out another round of shushing noises at the demon. Saliva included. "Holyfire ‘n allll. I didn' mean to… I juss- I was just tryna keep the HEAD OFFICE" The angel shouted, launching a miracle copy of _'Twilight'_ from the ether into his hand and then up at the ceiling. The demon felt a bit better now that they were to the throwing things portion. "Offfffffff my tail, I didn't- If they had tolllld me, I would have- I would have- I would…" Aziraphale gazed lovingly at the content of the vault. "Done anything…. Anything…. "Do me any embaseige to the pygmes" as Shakespeare-friend...as Shakespeare said. I would have done 'nything, Crawley."

The demon flinched at his old name. The angel was more drunk than he had imagined. Crowley shook it off and replied smoothly. "I know the feeling."

"I didn't mean to, Crowley."

"I know, angel."

"I jusss…."

"Come on le's-" Crowley reached out a hand to help him up.

"No." Aziraphale pulled away from the demon's offered hand, holding the scrolls tight to his chest, "I just- I just- I just wanna…" The angel stared off into the empty distance for a moment. "We're immortal. Things like this don't matter to us. But for the humans, this is all they've got. This is the only thing that guarantees them immortality. A building can be smashed, art can be defaced, but a story…." Aziraphale rolled out an original copy of the epic of Gilgamesh, stroking over its vellum pages like they were something holy. "A good story is eternal."

Crowley frowned so severely that his body sank further into the floor to make up for the gravitational pull of his disappointment. Though he'd never say it out loud, the demon knew exactly what the angel was talking about. He'd seen what the world had done to those who didn't make it all the way to being remembered.

Those whose talents were lost to the wheel of time, because of the hand they'd been dealt. All because their fellow man thought they weren't worthy in their eyes. Tunes only he remembered, stories half forgot because he'd been the only one to listen. Billions of thoughts and souls blown away into the depths of memory, and only remembered by someone who'd abandoned them. Yes, Crowley knew exactly what Aziraphale meant.

"I've never met this man, but we know each other. He got- he got- He got to tell me a story...this talks about things eternal...like friendship…" The angel looked up at the demon with a depth of sincerity that only reached the surface when he thought no one was looking.

He pulled another scroll from the wrappings. A symphonically precise diagram of the stars "Oh, poor Hypatia...That one's my fault too, ya know? I was the one who told her dad it wouldn't be so bad if his daughter went to school…" A warm smile broke through the clouds in his eyes.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak up against the untruth but decided to wait until the angel was done saying what he'd been keeping inside for too long. Maybe it was time for Crowley to tell Aziraphale a few things he'd kept to himself as well. Later though, first he'd let the angel vent his anguish.

"She was so brilliant." Aziraphale said, almost in a whisper, "Put Ptolemy to shame… Computed accurate calculations of celestial movement two HUNDRED YEARS before Copernicus. By the Almighty, she was wonderful." He added, eyes closing as his head lolled back against the back of the couch. "So smart. So bright. Like a star she was…" His countenance grew dark like a coast line with a looming storm, chin dropping to his chest, the words slipped from between his parted lips like sand through a sieve. "And they killed her."

"First, they tried to discredit her as a scientist and mathematician then they accused her of political intrigue," The angel rolled his eyes, "and witchcraft!" He added almost laughing at the thought. Then he grew quiet, his gaze pulling back through time to stand sentinel-like it had done a millennia ago.

"They stoned her. With roof tiles... Defaced her corpse… Gouged out her eyes, pulled her entrails from her body… They quartered her. Dragged her mangled limbs through town and burned them. On a pyre. Outside the Cinarion." Aziraphale was shaking, and his breath was coming in huge starving gulps. "That's the kind of death reserved for king killers, rapists, and horse thieves!" The angel lurched to his feet, sending the chest of drawers hurtling into one dimension and through the next before it clattered in a heap of shattered wood on the floor that shortly reassembled itself. "She was one of the most wonderous lights in all of creation, and they desecrated her like so much rubbage…"

"If I had just left them alone, she would have lived… Maybe had children or at least more students. Passed that brilliant mind on to someone else… But no. I had to meddle...and her life paid the forfeit." Aziraphale grew gravely quiet staring into the void for the longest duration since the demon arrived. He broke the silence with a sharp inhale, eyes never moving from the hole they were boring in the carpet in front of them.

"I could hear her, you know? Screaming...begging...calling for her family… I listened to her gasp and weep as the stones broke her bones and punctured her organs. I could see through her skin to what they were doing to her… and I couldn't stop it… I put her in their line of fire and when she most needed help. I sat on my thumbs… I could hear her- her thoughts… Could hear her pleading for help… For some sort of...divine intervention. Hoping against hope that Deius Ex Machina would save her… and I sat there...with all the power of heaven at my fingertips and did nothing."

"Oh, what have I done." The angel miracled a bottle of rum that still bore the fading seal of the East India Trading Company on it and drank the whole thing in a single inhumane swig.  
"You would think with all of the Head Offices talk about the good book that they would care a little more about literature. Damn them. Damn them all. This right here is the best thing mortals have ever done and the Almighty jus'... Well, maybe not the Almighty but his foot soldiers juss jus'- jus'- jus' cock it up!

Crowley had been sitting quietly as he knew how listening to his friend's pain. He gave a few moments to see if there was more that needed to be said, and when the angel curled further into the scrolls and got quiet, he got up and headed to the kitchenette.

"I said it, and I meant it," Aziraphale added in a huff, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Then like a soul ever chasing a bluer sky, the clouds receded on the horizon, and the angel's heavenly light shone through. "Didn't you say something about hot coco…" The angel called from his spot in front of the couch.

The demon came back with two giant cups of hot cocoa, covered to the brim, and beyond with whip cream and several versions of chocolate shavings over the top. He gently set it down on the desk just outside the angel's reach. Crowley stood in front of the angel and held out his hand again. "Ya mean this hot chocolate? Hot chocolate is only for non-drunk individuals. Milk and alcohol, not a great mix if you catch my meaning. Maybe time to sober up just a bit, angel?"

The angel pursed his lips huffing a sigh he screwed his eyes shut and squeezed the molecules of alcohol from his blood.

"There. Happy?" He said churlishly reaching for the cocoa with infantile grabby hands. Crowley caught one of the hands and helped the angel situate himself on the couch. The angel was less drunk, but not entirely sober yet.

"Rarely, but getting there." The demon flashed Aziraphale a smirk. "How's 'bout we get the priceless literature out of harm's way?"

"Oh, right." Aziraphale waved his hand like a traffic conductor, and the unfathomable precious scrolls were returned to their bittersweet mausoleum. Where they would sleep for another (roughly) two years. Crowley slid the cup to his friend, who took a long sip with a highly contented sigh.

It's not that Aziraphale suddenly forgot his troubles, but the burden became so much more bearable when shared. The sound of laughter and the smell of melted cream in warm chocolate could be found well into the night and into the next afternoon.

When it got to the point that the demon needed to go home, Crowley was walked out to his Bentley by Aziraphale as they made plans for lunch the next week. But not before fixing the lamp. As he prepared to drive away, Crowley rolled down the window and leaned out, resting his chin on his forearm, glasses sliding down.

"You know, angel, I figure it's only fair I tell you. Marcus, Decimus, Brutus and I were kinda mates way back when. I heard something about Caesar being responsible for Alexandria, and I knew how much it meant to you, library wise that is, and well, I might be partially, if not entirely, at some fault for what occurred to him." Crowley pushed his glasses back up his nose. A sharp and blinding smile was planted on his face as he slid back into the car. With a rev of the engine, the demon sped away calling out the window. "See you Monday!"

The angel stood on the sidewalk trying to wrangle with his smile. He walked back into the book shoppe fighting to keep the spring out of his step.

**Author's Note:**

> * Every anniversary of the burning of the Library of Alexandria, Crowley would come over to find a very drunk Aziraphale who would recount the events of the burning and the loss of all that knowledge. Crowley had several plans during this time. Get the angel to sober up enough to drink hot chocolate and commiserate on the unfairness of life. Deal with a sad drunk angel for a day or two, then the hungover angel via electrolytes and homemade beignets. Or use the tranquilizer that was for very bad, smite-y occasions, and strong enough to take down a megalodon, then the angel would nap off the next few days. All necessary items had been stored in a kit that Crowley kept hidden in the bookshop's cupboard depths.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
